So Far from Who We Are
by arcanista
Summary: With help from an unexpected corner, Sans starts putting together pieces of the puzzle. Undyne puts her foot down about a lot of things. [Follow-up to Terminate and Stay Resident]
1. Chapter 1

_Some of them understand why, and some do not, but they all understand that their happiness, the beauty of their city, [...] depend wholly on this child's abominable misery._

* * *

The kid clings to that slice of pie like it's a talisman of some sort. Sans figures it is, in its way. He's about halfway done bandaging them up by the time they dare to take the first bite. They don't seem to object to the taste, so Sans chalks his half-baked (heh) plan as a win. Papyrus is off behind him, helping Undyne out of her armour. She's still hopping mad, of course, but losing the armour's a good first step to calming down. The kid's... noticeably different. Yeah, they hold still, sitting on top of the table while Sans ties clean socks around the cuts (and there he'd been annoyed when Papyrus snuck off with the pile and washed it), but they're definitely more alert. Even staying put, they're less limp, and they keep sneaking looks around Sans at Papyrus and Undyne.

They're not bothering with a fork or anything on the pie, just pushing it up to the edge of the plate and taking bites that way. Good technique; Sans files that one away for later usage. They still look kinda blank otherwise, but they don't have that stone-faced look they kept up most of the time before.

Sans finishes up right around the time the kid's done with their pie. They hold the plate for a little longer before setting it down next to Sans' pet rock.

"I don't get you guys." Undyne breaks the relative silence as Papyrus gets the last of that giant armour off of her. "I don't. You know what they did. You probably _saw_ some of it." She throws her head against the back of the couch. "And they're such a _wimp_ , too. How did any of this happen?"

"Maybe the human didn't know any better?" says Papyrus, coming to look around Sans at the kid. "Apparently they don't have puzzles in their culture! Once we taught them what puzzles were like, they started having a lot of fun with them! Isn't that right, human?"

The kid bites their lower lip. They still don't look Papyrus in the face, that much hasn't changed. "Kinda?" It's not the sickly-sweet voice they'd used before, though Sans can hear it in there. It's high-pitched in a kid sort of way, but hoarse and rough, and the word sounds kind of awkward. Like they're not used to stringing syllables together into words. Well, they're probably not.

Undyne rubs her forehead. "Ugh, this is confusing. And being confused makes me angry." She gets up and walks over to the table too, staring down at the kid. They pull their knees up and start scooching back, fingers shaking. Undyne makes a noise out of the back of her throat when she sees that, and just shakes her head. "How did a wimp like you..."

"Please don't scare the human!" says Papyrus. He looks between Undyne and the kid, then tries a different tack. "Isn't there anything else you could do with them? Like make friends, maybe?"

"I don't care if they're scared! They still killed _all those people_! I'm sure as hell not making friends with someone like _that_." Undyne crosses her arms over her chest and glares even harder. "I don't really care what either of you guys say, nothing's gonna change that."

The kid shuts their eyes, pulling far enough backward that their back's to the wall, arms still around knees. Without looking up, they say, "Was it true?"

Sans takes it before either of the others can bring the volume back up. "Was what true?"

"Souls." They're definitely having trouble putting sentences together. But this is such a step up Sans isn't going to look this gift horse in the mouth. "One more. Everyone free." They open their eyes and rest their chin on their knees, teeth running over their lower lip.

"What?" Undyne steps back from the table, blinking her eye a couple times. "Yeah, of course, everyone knows... ugh, I guess a human wouldn't? Yeah! Seven human souls and King Asgore can break the barrier and all monsterkind can go free! Six. That's what we have right now. Why are you even asking?"

They lift their hands up in front of their face, watching them like they've never seen before. The kid takes a big, big breath. It isn't until after they've let it out completely that they say, "Okay."

"Okay _what_?" Undyne lands her hands on her hips. If she glares any harder, her eye might pop loose. Sans scratches the back of his skull, can't shake sort of a sinking feeling. Papyrus looks down at him and he just shrugs back.

The kid gingerly sets the back of their head against the wall and sets their hands down on the table. They make a wheezing sound, followed by a string of coughs. " _Am_ sorry. _Do_ want to... to make things better. Take it."

Sans sort of pushes the plate and the pet rock aside, sweeping some sprinkles out of the way so he can lean on the table with an elbow. "Kid, uh, just to be clear about that," he says, mentally narrowing a hypothesis. _Reason for ending up down here: option three._ "You'd have to, y'know, die for that to happen."

"Okay."

Sans shuts his sockets. Undyne takes a step back. Papyrus is having none of this. "What! Human, no! That's not how you be a better person! That's not in the lesson plan at all!"

Undyne turns away and stalks halfway across the living room. "Oh my god," she mutters. "This isn't- this isn't how it's supposed to be _at all_." She grinds her teeth while Sans looks between Papyrus and the kid. Then she turns and charges right back to the table. "No! You think you're gonna get out of what you did that easily! You think that's _justice_? There's supposed to be a really epic fight where I use all my spears and I taunt you and you taunt me back and at the last possible minute I defeat you and there's probably a cool explosion somewhere! You don't get to just _give up_!"

Mumbled defiance. "You _said_."

"That was when we were locked in mortal combat! A struggle for the ages where the heroine defeats the villain and saves all of monsterkind! You... you... what is _wrong_ with you!" Undyne puts her hands on the edge of the table, looking about to flip it, but by some miracle she stops herself. Instead, she looks anywhere but at the bandaged, tangle-haired kid sitting on top of it.

The kid just shrugs. "Dunno. Everything." They put their chin back on their knees and slowly curl and uncurl their fingers against the tabletop.

" _No_ , human!" Papyrus presses ever forward. "You've gone from being weird and, um, hurting people and not talking to being less weird and not hurting people and you're talking now! That's doing great! You're gonna be a great person in no time!"

The kid makes something that sort of vaguely resembles a smile, but Sans is an expert at identifying situations that are going nowhere. He changes the subject, and says, "Hey, kid, maybe now's not the best time for all that. You're pretty banged up, you should get some rest." He waits a beat, then looks up at Papyrus. "Probably too much noise to put them on the couch."

"What!" Papyrus looks affronted at the very notion. Which was the plan, of course. "Of course you may not put the human on the couch while there's guests over! What are you even thinking, Sans? You take that human upstairs and put them in my bed where it's quiet this instant!"

"Oh. Right. Good idea, bro. C'mere, kid." Sans reaches out for the the kid and waits for them to slide over. He scoops them up and says, "Be right back," before carefully hauling the kid upstairs. Ugh, maybe it wasn't such a great idea to do this while everyone's watching, and he's got to, sigh, _walk_. On the other hand, feels like the kid's actually been putting on weight, which can only be a good thing.

Sans kicks the door to Papyrus' room shut behind them, before situating the kid on top of Papyrus' bed. They rub their forehead a few times and blink blearily up at him. _God_ , they really are just a kid. It's hard to forget it, sure, but somehow seeing someone the right size for that red plastic racecar bed makes it crystal clear.

"Holding up okay?" Sans asks, pulling back the covers. Say one thing for Papyrus (and why only stop at one?), he knows how to be cozy.

"Um," says the kid, sliding their way into the bed. They wriggle their toes before slipping them underneath the blankets, and settle in with no fuss at all.

Sans pulls up the blankets around them. "Yeah, I know the feeling. But you are gonna be okay. That hasn't changed. Not a promise, just a feeling."

The kid tugs the blankets the rest of the way up, pulling them up beneath their chin. Their jaw works a little before they say, "Decided. Not lying." Sans is just about to breathe a sigh of relief, before they add on the stinger of, "Just wrong."

"Ouch." Sans lets his natural grin turn rueful. "Wouldn't be the first time. Tell you what, if I'm wrong, I'll owe you one of Grillby's burgers, okay?"

A thoughtful noise emerges from the kid, but their eyes narrow after only a couple more seconds. "When?" they ask.

Sans can't help but laugh, quietly. "Heh. Y'know, no one's ever called me on that one before. I'll getcha one anyway, okay? Get your nap first." He pauses, then scratches the back of his skull. "Uh, maybe it's a little late to be asking, but, y'know. What's your name, anyway?"

The kid sits up a bit, clutching the blanket tight in their hands. Their face blanks, looks for a minute like it always used to, and Sans is worried for a second until he connects the dots, finally puts a meaning to that expression: abject concentration. They shake their head once, tightly.

"No you're not telling me, or something else? It's fine if you don't wanna." He knows that's not it; the kid's perfectly co-operative. But if they're just coming out of their shell now he doesn't want to spook them back into it.

They bite their lower lip and fiddle the blanket between their fingers. They take some time to assemble the sentences, and say, "Dunno. Not good at names. Since... um. Dunno." They shrug, and go for a tiny smile. "Not good at remembering, either. Since ever."

Sans scratches the rim of his eye socket. "Not good at names, huh..." Sans says. "Names in general? So let's say I say, right now, that my name's Sans. Which it is. And then I asked you what my name is, you'd say what, exactly?"

The kid scrunches up their forehead, lips moving silently. They take an awfully long time about it, too, brows knitting tighter and tighter as they go. "Dunno," they whisper, letting their head fall forward.

Sans reaches out, tilting their head back up. "Hey, hey, don't worry about it, kiddo. That says something important, too. Say you needed to get my attention in a crowd. What would you yell?"

They do look right away now, hesitating before mumbling, "Um... wouldn't... probably."

"Oh, geez, kid," Sans says, half at himself. But he opens his arms up, saying, "C'mere." The kid lets go of the blanket and leans against him. He curls his arms tight around them, squeezing them close. "I dunno what happened to you. But I'd rather not see anything bad happen to you now. And don't give me anything about what you did. My brother'd walk through a fire for you, too, you know that, right?"

"Dunno why," the kid says into Sans' shirt. They reach their arms around him all the same, clinging to him. "Soft," they say. "Magic, too?"

Sans laughs, quietly. "Ouch, kid. Ouch. Yeah, I guess it's magic too. Okay if I ask one more? This might be easier: you have no trouble telling me and my brother apart, right?"

The kid nods, but keeps their face more or less buried against him. That's fine; he isn't about to let go of the kid until they're good and ready. "Short, tall. Blue, red. Um..." they pause, and Sans hears what sounds suspiciously like a giggle. "Round, straight."

"Trying to tell me I should lose some weight?" He moves a hand to start to ruffle the kid's hair, but feels them shake it off about the second he makes contact. "Still a no go? Sure. At least you're washing it now, heh. Don't worry about it. You've been a big help, kiddo."

"Help with...?" The kid lifts their head and looks up at him, gaze still settling somewhere other than his face. They lift their hand and rub their nose on their wrist.

"Hey, even a bonehead like me can do some thinking," says Sans. "And thinking's good, there's no exercise involved. You, though, geez. Got me showing initiative and stuff. Haven't done that in a while."

"Why?"

That is the question, isn't it. And as short as the kid's sentences are, Sans is pretty sure the kid would have been able to add the 'not' at the end, if that was the question they wanted to ask. Sans rubs his thumb against the kid's shoulder as he mentally slides some pieces around. Multiple probable-resets choked. Last assumed-to-be-an anchor point placed before that critical meeting with Papyrus. Slow, brick-by-brick progress in the intervening time.

Not everything fits: the kid's apparent willingness to die in order to make up for what they did ( _would_ that be justice? hell if he knows). That weird flower spying, and that night it interfered. Probably more.

But he's not above taking a guess first and going for a perfect fit later. And the kid's giving him a lot. So he owes them one. Softly, he says, "Our reports showed a massive anomaly in the timespace continuum." Do they know the words? Doesn't matter. "Timelines jumping left and right, stopping and starting..." He feels his eyes go dark, losing himself in the memory. "Until suddenly, everything ends."

The kid shivers against him, but holds on tighter rather than pulling away. Another data point, distantly notated. Sans looks down, eyes still dark as he speaks. "Heh heh heh... that isn't your fault at all, is it?"

They do look directly up at him now, fingers gripping hard at his t-shirt beneath his hoodie. For a minute Sans is desperately worried he's made a big mistake. Then they sniffle, and whisper, like they're scared of how he'll take it, "Kind of is."

One more leap. Sans wipes below the kid's eyes, and asks, "What've you been fighting, then?"

The kid coughs heavily a few times, hanging onto him for dear life. Rather than answer directly, they say, voice hoarser now, "Kind of is. Kind of isn't."

"And you're not the one who's been trying to reset," says Sans. He's not asking questions anymore. Oh, he still has plenty, but this part, at least, makes sense to him.

"Did it. Once." The kid's voice is filled with a dead kind of horror, the sound of a pain that's killed all the nerves around it.

Sans decides not to ask about the other two he knows about. "Geez," he says, slowly letting the kid go. They ease back to lying down. "I wanted to put you down for a nap, now you're just gonna have nothing but nightmares. Sorry, kiddo."

The kid pulls the blankets up to their chin, placing their head sideways on the pillow. "Not new." They wait a second, then ask, "Same? Always snacking."

Observant little kid, especially for someone who barely seemed able to see at all before today. Sans avoids that question, and says, "Well, if you catch me, don't be shy, I'll fix you something. Now get some rest, okay?"

When the kid nods, Sans gets up. He pauses inside the door, though, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He requests to change user accounts, and inputs a password, all twenty-four randomly-generated alphanumeric (plus symbols) characters of it. He pulls up the contacts list and taps the only recently-used entry. He hovers over the call button, but goes for text instead.

Sans texts: _got a question. its not your area but its not urgent. probably relevant to that last call. what goods a binding against names? kid doesnt know their own. others go in the kids ear and seem to melt before they hit brain._

He flips accounts back to the default, and goes downstairs.

* * *

They look up, squinting to see the ceiling in the dark. They shiver a little, now that they're alone, and it's so quiet. Voices coming from downstairs, but so muddled they might as well not count.

Never thought they'd feel _lonely_. Never thought it would be too quiet. They sink down under the covers, pulling the blankets up past their nose. Something about the bed, too, makes their tummy flip, and they can't remember why. And it's so cozy and soft and warm they can't hate it. Can't even be afraid of it. Back of their head hurts. Rest of them hurts, too. Well, not as bad with the socks all tied on. Head still hurts.

They bite their lower lip, chew at it. Don't even know what to do right now. Should sleep. Should try to sleep. Really tired. But they don't want it to come back. Don't want it to be a trick. Don't want it to be a dream.

Does he trust them? They don't know. He held on really tight, when he told the scary story they didn't understand about time. Sort of did understand, a little. Only a little. Pretty sure he doesn't wanna hurt them. Makes them feel worse, cause they can't stop wanting to, can't stop wondering what it would be like. But it's more distant than before. No more stopping hands from moving, no more imagining hurting. Just... just curious. Curious what it would be like to hurt him.

Kinda feels worse that way. Their tummy twists up in knots. Don't wanna disappoint him. Gonna, sooner or later.

Tall one trusts them. Not enough to think it's a good plan, with the soul. They don't know why. Would make everyone happy. But he's always happy, they guess. No other reason he'd keep playing games and doing puzzles and watching TV with them. No other reason he'd smile when they think of an answer. Just always happy. Something deep inside them says they're wrong. But it's a tiny, tiny part of them, and they know for sure that there's never really been enough of them to like, for him to smile at. Short one's wrong, about what he said about the tall. That's all. Both be happier if they fixed things this way.

Really just want to hurt them both. Really don't _want_ to want it, but they can't help it. Gonna disappoint him, too. That one hurts worse, even.

Probably be dead right now, if the tall one hadn't hugged them that first time. Kind of want to get out of bed and hug him right now. ... Mostly they just resent him.

They think about running away instead. But not sure when they'd get a chance, or how they'd manage. Neither the short one nor the tall one sleeps much. And they don't know where they'd put food. The last time they ran away from somewhere (where? head hurts so much trying to think of it) they'd had a backpack. Dunno where the backpack is. Dunno what they'd put into it.

Shouldn't want any of these things. Not killing, not hurting, not dying, not running away. Should just... just want to stay here where it's warm. Where nobody wants to hurt them. Can't help but think that's a lie, even if they don't count the blue lady. Who definitely does. But of course the skeletons want to hurt them, somehow. They're just hiding it, or don't know it yet, or, or something.

That's right, isn't it?

Of course it isn't, but... their head hurts so much and they're _alone_ inside it and they haven't been alone since... since, since when? Really not good at remembering. Can't tell what they're gonna remember and what they won't.

Never thought they'd miss it. Throat catches. Won't stay where not wanted... _did_ they want it there? They squeeze their eyes tight. No. No, no. Never did. Don't. Don't miss it. Can't miss it, doesn't dare.

Blue lady had the right idea. But, then, why stop...? Was she lying? Then, why fight at all? Doesn't make sense.

Should just try and sleep. They rest their cheek on the borrowed pillow and relax their eyes so they're just normal-closed. Gonna at least try. Always gotta try.

* * *

"So we're agreed!"

"Yeah. I definitely can't take that human's soul as-is. It's probably got gunk on it or something. I can't give it to the king like that."

Sans waits at the top of the stairs, before starting down them to join Papyrus and Undyne.

"Sans!" Papyrus turns in his direction the very instant he sets foot on the stairs. "What took you so long! We've almost decided what to do!" Papyrus stamps a foot impatiently while Sans shuffles down the stairs.

"Sorry," says Sans, offering a shrug. "Had to tell the kid a story. So what's the plan?" The excuse is true enough, and anyway he trusts Papyrus to have come to the right decision. And Undyne to at least not want to kill someone with zero apparent intention of fighting back.

"A story... ugh, you know what, never mind. Anyway, I'm not taking the human's soul," says Undyne. "I don't care if they say I should, it's probably a trick, or the soul's gone bad or something. I've watched enough human history documentaries to know that no human would _ever_ willingly just give up their soul without a super epic fight. There's something _wrong_ with that human, and that soul's not going _anywhere_ until it gets fixed."

Sans scratches the back of his skull. It's a good start, anyway. "Well, you're the boss," he says. "Those, uh, documentaries tell you how to fix a soul, anyway?" Not that the cartoons would have anything useful in them, but she might have some idea. And with whatever force that's _actually_ capable of the resets either dormant or loose (and no way to tell which as yet), somebody should probably be trying to figure something out. If it doesn't have to be him, why should it be?

Both Papyrus and Undyne go quiet as they try and figure that one out. Not that Sans has a clue how to do the work, either. Or how to figure out what exactly the problem even is. Sure, he's been making headway, but it's pretty much entirely a combination of educated guessing and entirely too close observation. And analyzing a meta-temporospatial anomaly by sticking your face in it's a great way to... to... Sans strolls over to the kitchen to grab a soda, solely for the purposes of masking a sudden, pounding headache.

 _What brought that on?_ The pain behind his sockets only ratchets up as he repeats the notion to himself, slower and in more detail: what happens when the intersection of meta-space and meta-time blows up in your face? It can't be related. Not directly. Sans cracks open the soda can, lingering in the kitchen. Well, apparently what happens is that your head _really_ hurts. He lets the thought drop with nothing more than a resolution to go looking for his old notebooks. Assuming he even remembers the math involved. He'd had to invent entirely new symbols for some of the constants involved. No, that's not right. The headache worsens.

"I've got it!" Undyne's shout from the other room breaks Sans' train of thought, and with it the headache melts away as if it never was. Sans heads back to the living room in time to see her just finishing up a solid air-punch. "I haven't got a single clue how to fix a human soul!"

Under different circumstances, Sans would grab a trombone. Even Papyrus just keeps his attention on Undyne, waiting to see where she goes with this.

Undyne notices the attention and glances between the both of them. "But, uh..." she fumbles, until the light goes off in her head. "But I know who would! Alphys knows _everything_ about humans. She _has_ to know how to fix a soul so it's not broken anymore. And if it's a trick, we'll find out because there's no way someone trying to fool us like that would let a complete human expert like her anywhere near them. Yeah. Yeah, that's the ticket!"

"Wowie!" says Papyrus. "You're right! Those books you got for me from her helped a lot when I had to nurse the human back to health before! I bet she'll know exactly exactly how to help the human! And then you can be friends!"

"For the millionth time- wait, _that's_ why you wanted- this really _has_ been going on for weeks! You _guys_!" Undyne takes a step towards Papyrus, but stops and sighs.

"But if you think about it," Papyrus says. "Isn't it better that we decided to help the human? If something's wrong with their soul and you took it without anyone knowing yet, that could have been really bad! If you think about it that way, I'm a hero!"

Undyne growls under her breath. "You know what, enough. Just enough. I'm going home. I don't wanna hear any more about how long you were hiding the human that did all that, I don't wanna hear any more about how you want them and me to be friends. I'm gonna go home, and I'm gonna talk to Alphys, and when we've got something worked out, I'll let you and your brother know. Until then, _don't let that human out of your sight_! Got it?"

Papyrus punches his fist into his palm. "Got it! Oh! One last thing! Can my brother have his job back?"

Undyne glares her way from Papyrus over to Sans, who's still standing between the door to the kitchen and the TV, slippered, hoodied, sipping a can of soda. He winks at her. "Ugh, _fine_ ," she says. "But he's suspended without pay for a week! No, two! And our meetings and lessons are off until I get this sorted with Alphys, you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am," says Papyrus, hanging his head for two beats, then he snaps his head over toward Sans. "You should thank her! What would you ever do without me?"

Sans' smile is genuine, for once. "I dunno, bro," he says. No idea how he would have wrangled this without him, to be perfectly honest. Not to mention everything else. He looks back up to Undyne. "Uh, thanks, I guess." He rubs the back of his head. "Two weeks? Sounds fair."

"I don't wanna hear about it," says Undyne, packing up her armour. "Just... just be _good_ while I work this out, okay?"

"I'm always good!"

The sound of Undyne's gnashing teeth lingers after she gets herself and her armour out the front door. Sans and Papyrus look at each other silently for a moment.

"Sans?" asks Papyrus, while Sans finishes his drink. "The human's... the human's gonna be okay, right? They get less weird all the time, and they really like my lessons. And I guess I've got extra free time to devote to those lessons, too! Wow, Undyne's really thoughtful!"

Sans tosses the empty can in the general direction of the trash. Somehow, absolutely mysteriously, it lands perfectly in the can. Nice. "I hope so," says Sans. "I dunno, maybe there is something wrong with their soul. But you are helping a lot. Didn't they get one of the words on the jumble all by themself the other day?"

"Yeah!" says Papyrus. "Yeah! They're gonna be a great person in no time! They'll be fine! All thanks to the Papyrus School For Humans Who Need To Be Less Weird And Better People! This is an even better idea than the store that only sells fire!"

"Hehe," says Sans, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're a natural at this. C'mon, let's see what's on TV. You can even pick the channel."


	2. Supplemental

**A Series of Text Messages, Received Later That Afternoon**

[sorry to just provide an obfuscated offsite link here, but this site refuses not only to allow embedded images but also it's destroying links of any sort; while most of the supplemental material is just that, you should probably read this one! So, have a link to the correct version]

archiveofourown DOT org/works/5213444/chapters/12019658


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